Time For A Change?
by jackwabbit
Summary: Daniel Jack Friendship, Sam Jack UST, Spoilers for 'Threads'.  Companion Piece to ‘Encore’, but not a second chapter or continuation.  More of an alternate view.  A deeper look at Jack in ‘Threads’ and afterwards.


**Time For A Change?**

Rated: PG

Category: Angst, Team, D/J Friendship, S/J UST

Season: Eight

Spoilers: Threads

Summary: Companion Piece to 'Encore'. A deeper look at Jack in 'Threads' and afterwards.

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Jack O'Neill knew what was happening from the moment he saw her coming. When she closed the door, it only confirmed everything. What had been only suspected became crystal clear.

O'Neill stood, preparing for this battle like any other. Steeling himself for what was coming. And although he appeared to be calm and mostly collected during an unfortunate but necessary process, he insides were roiling as if bubbling in a soup, and it felt as though a great weight was caving in his chest.

That wasn't because he was overly attached to the woman-at least not yet. He liked her, they were good together, and they might have gone far, but at this point Jack was still testing the waters. If this had to happen, he was glad it was happening now. It was just the reason for it that was throwing him for a loop.

When he was honest about it, Jack really wasn't surprised, though. Women seemed, to him, to always be more astute in these areas. Something he'd been trying to deny and suppress for so long that it had become habit was as plain as day to someone he'd only known a few weeks.

It wasn't fair.

'I tried to move on,' Jack thought. 'I really did.' It was almost laughable that when he finally let go of something he'd held onto like a bizarre lifeline for years, he still had to deal with it. It wouldn't go away. And yet, even though he'd been called on the carpet about it one more time, he still couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't fix it or deal with it or get rid of it.

And suddenly Jack O'Neill was angry.

He was angry at Kerry for so professionally blowing him off, at work no less. He was angry at his situation and the fact that he couldn't fix it. Kerry had suggested retirement-like it was that simple. He was angry at the Air Force for being responsible for this to begin with, by pulling him out of retirement (again) and putting people into his life that breezed through his carefully erected barriers without a thought. People who got too close. He was angry at himself for letting them do it. And, most of all, he was angry with_her_. Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter.

For oh so many reasons.

She'd moved on. She was engaged to be married, but God's sake. And yet, she still managed to send just the right smile or look his way at just the right time to dredge up everything he felt for her from the recesses of his soul, where he had locked it away years ago.

She still had that soft look behind her eyes that emerged in quiet moments and confused the hell out of Jack. It hinted at something more than friendly, but Jack could never be sure what it was.

She teased him. She left him hanging. And it pissed him off.

Worst of all, she still managed to show up at exactly the wrong time. She'd picked the least opportune moment ever to have second thoughts about her impending marriage. To show up at his house, unannounced, and not only ruin any chance he'd had of being with Kerry, but to just expect him to drop everything and act like nothing had happened in the last few months. To pretend that she hadn't given up on them and abandoned him. To pretend she hadn't moved on. That things were peachy keen and that somehow the rules and regulations that had kept them apart so long were suddenly gone. She picked the worse time ever to tell him that she was reconsidering her marriage to Pete.

He had enough going on in his life without this.

Jack wasn't stupid, even if sometimes it served him well to appear to be a little dim. He knew why Carter had come that day. He knew why she was having doubts. He knew she wanted to know how he felt about it. She needed to know if there was any chance for more chapters in the twisted tale of Jack and Sam. They had skirted real communication so many times Jack could tell what was being said with no words. This was one of the few times that things were just going to have to get put on the table, though, because Sam needed to do it, and that angered him even more-what about him? What if he didn't want to do this now? What if he wasn't ready? And what the hell was his answer? How did he feel about everything?

Jack didn't know, and that was the worst problem of all. He didn't know if he and Sam could change things enough to make it ok for them to try this thing between them out. He didn't know if he could forgive her for moving on without so much as a word to him.

And he didn't know if he wanted to. It was easier to be angry with her than to try to actually sort out his feelings or to risk everything on the chance that they might work out, when in fact things could go to hell just as easily, if not more so.

Jack also didn't know if he could say any of this to her, but he definitely couldn't say anything now. The woman's dad was dying, for God's sake.

After taking a minute to absorb what had just happened in his office, Jack had walked the corridors of the SGC while he blew off steam. Suddenly he found himself outside Jacob's isolation room. He didn't want to go in, but he knew it was his duty. He had to. As he opened the door, his heart stopped beating and his body refused all commands for a fraction of a second. All thoughts of anger fled as he took in the scene in front of him. Samantha Carter was there, sitting alone, sniffling just a little, as she looked down through the thick glass window at her dying father.

All Jack could think of in that moment was that he didn't care about any of his anger or frustration. Suddenly, it wasn't important. Carter was hurting, and she needed him. She shouldn't be alone in here like this.

O'Neill's feet carried him to Sam's side without his conscious input. He sat, and while his voice betrayed him slightly, he kept up the distance that was required of him. At least at first. For as long as he could, Jack resisted the urge to touch Sam, to hold her and comfort her. As Sam talked, though, Jack's heart beat slower and harder in his chest, and again his actions seemed out of his control. Words that had been spoken between them only a few times, and always in moments like this, came unheeded.

"C'mere."

As the soft blonde head rested on his shoulder and his hand was caressed in return for his hug, Jack's lungs nearly burst. He'd thought he was over it, that he could move on, but he was wrong. He wanted this. More than anything in the world. Was it so much to ask to be allowed to try? Or at least to openly be a good friend? To see where that went?

The moment was over far too soon for Jack, but promises were renewed and bandages were ripped off of old wounds, leaving them raw and bleeding again.

Sam felt so right to Jack that he really couldn't imagine living without her, but he couldn't have her either, and it tore him up inside with the force of a thousand Claymores.

As Sam left to visit her father, Jack realized that her absence left his side cold, and that he wanted to be down there with her. That he wanted to share his life with her. That he didn't want to go home to an empty house every night forever. Mere minutes of closeness weren't going to sustain him anymore.

There wasn't much he could do, though. Jack wasn't the homewrecker type, and Sam had made her choice clear. She was with Pete now. Jack wanted Sam to be happy, above all else. If that meant he couldn't be with her, if it meant she had to be with Pete, Jack would have to learn to live with that. He would have to move on. As that thought crossed his mind, Jack laughed to himself. 'Yeah, that really worked out well, O'Neill,' he thought bitterly. Another thought came to him then, and Jack shivered involuntarily.

What if he failed?

It had been a long time since Jack had done the relationship thing, and it'd been hard enough with a stranger, but with Sam, there were more variables. Would the baggage they shared make things that much more difficult? What if he lost her forever? What if he couldn't even be her friend when all was said and done? What if they hated each other?

Innumerable doubts assailed O'Neill and a sigh escaped his lips. He felt old, and not very deserving of happiness. He couldn't witness the scene below him any longer, so he bowed his head into his hands and concentrated on just breathing.

'What am I going to do?', he thought desperately.

There were no easy answers, but Jack suddenly just had to get out of there. The room was getting smaller around him, and it had been a very long day. He stood, taking one last long look over his shoulder at the pair down below and left, shoulders sagging. The weight of the world plus the weight of this was too much for one man to take. At least today.

It was late, and he started to head home, but that wasn't to be.

Next thing Jack O'Neill knew, he'd ordered, then cancelled, the self destruct of his own base, while the new Jaffa army had lost, then regained, the single greatest weapon humans (or Jaffa) had every encountered. Anubis had suddenly vanished, no longer a threat. He was presumed dead, but Jack couldn't quite bring himself to believe that. The Kull warriors were in chaos, and easily overcome.

Oh, and Daniel Jackson had returned from the dead. Again. He'd been naked. Again. This time, though, Daniel had the stellar good sense to land himself right in Jack's office. At least they didn't have to find him on some backwater planet after this latest Lazarus act.

It made Jack's head hurt. The events themselves, while overwhelming and disorientating at times, he could deal with. This wasn't O'Neill's first sleepover in the bizarre land of the SGC. But trying to make sense of the big picture and worrying about paperwork and meetings and justifying every damned penny to the higher-ups made him nauseous.

It took almost a week for Jack O'Neill to have a free moment at home. He'd spent most of his nights since Jacob's death and all the events surrounding it in his quarters in the mountain or burning the midnight oil in his office to try to catch up on all the documents that needed his signature. The few times he'd managed to get home, he'd either showered and changed and headed back out or fell instantly and blissfully asleep from exhaustion. He hadn't had any time to actually digest the events of the last week. He hadn't had any time to himself. He'd had no time to think about anything other than work, in the most professional terms.

He'd intentionally stayed too busy to remember Carter, or Jacob, or Kerry, or even Daniel. It was easier to work than to deal with the real issues in his life. The ones that had kept him up working until he dropped mercifully from sleep deprivation. The ones that had him seeking distraction in anything he could get his hands on. The ones that sat on his shoulders like buzzards, weighing him down and just waiting for the right moment to strike and bring him to his knees.

Now, though, Jack wasn't busy anymore. He could make no more excuses. Everything was as tied up as it was going to get, at least for a while. Jack O'Neill sat in his living room, quietly brooding, weighing options and trying in vain to see what lay down several paths in front of him.

He'd sat there for a good long while, silent and pensive, feeling just a little bit sorry for himself, when a sound made him jump.

Jack wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, but when the knock on the door repeated, he ran a hand over his face and sighed. He didn't really feel like moving, or talking to anyone, but since anyone who would come to see him had a key and wouldn't hesitate to use it if needed, he figured he should answer the door. Jack threw a gruff request at the closed door and stood.

"Hang on a minute."

As he traversed the distance from couch to door, Jack's heart was in his feet. He dreaded what he might find when he opened the door. Or, more accurately, he dreaded who he might find. That very efficient SGC communication system more often called Walter Harriman had informed Jack in a not so subtle way that the word around base was that Colonel Carter had broken off her engagement to 'that cop guy'.

While Jack appreciated the Sergeant's intel, he wasn't ready to deal with what it might mean for him. He couldn't deal with Carter yet, and he only hoped it wasn't her on the other side of the door.

When O'Neill finally opened his door, relief flooded his system like a fast-acting narcotic.

Daniel Jackson stood on Jack's doorstep carrying two six packs of beer. Daniel looked like a schoolboy selling candy bars, but he was a sight for sore eyes. Although it would have been hard to get him to admit it, O'Neill had missed Daniel greatly during his recent absence, and he had been very afraid that Daniel wouldn't come back from this one. Jack was genuinely glad to see his friend, even if he questioned Daniel's motives for the visit.

Jack knew Daniel wanted to talk. Jack wasn't ready to talk. He wasn't really keen on the idea of talking ever, in fact. O'Neill had been planning on having a few drinks and packing up everything that had happened in the last week into the smallest possible space in his consciousness and forgetting about it.

Jack had perfected the process of ignoring anything outside his comfort zone years ago. He could do it again now, if given a little time and a little whiskey.

But Daniel Jackson had other ideas.

Before Jack O'Neill knew what was happening, strong arms were holding him in a tight embrace. Daniel clutched the older man to his chest in a bear hug that nearly took Jack's breath away. To his surprise, Jack liked it. It felt good. He hadn't thought he wanted to share his burden. He'd thought he wanted to keep it to himself like he usually did, but he simply couldn't resist Daniel.

And he didn't want to. He returned the hug with a vengeance. Tonight, he was glad that Daniel Jackson had walked right into that dark spot in his soul that was Charlie nine years ago, and never left. He was glad that Daniel could still waltz through his carefully constructed barriers at will. Because tonight, just maybe, Jack O'Neill wanted company after all.

It wasn't often that every barrier was stripped away to nothing between the two men, but when it happened, it was magic. When both had taken what they needed from their mutual embrace, they released each other, but as always at times like these, they didn't have to speak to know where to go next.

Several hours and several beers later, after some serious and some not-so-serious talk, Jack O'Neill was laughing, his troubles long forgotten, and a rather inebriated Daniel Jackson suggested an 'old school SG-1' fishing trip as a much-needed break to try to put things in perspective. The out of character thought told Jack that he needed to cut his friend off, but the idea didn't seem like a bad one.

In fact, it seemed like damn good one to O'Neill. First, a night of talking with a good friend, then a group fishing trip. Both were things he would have thought very unlikely only a short time ago, but it looked like the times, they were a'changing. Jack thought that just maybe it was high time he took a good long look at his life and made some decisions. He'd been afraid to change anything for so long for so many reasons, but change didn't seem to be such a bad thing at the moment. He thought that just maybe he could handle it, as long as he had his friends at his side.

As Daniel Jackson prattled on into the wee hours of the night, Jack O'Neill leaned back in his chair and smiled a rare genuine smile, feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time.


End file.
